


the shots you don't take

by mysterywoozi (writers_haven)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Rom-com, Slow Burn, Wedding Planning, loosely based on 27 dresses, poor chan is suffering, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_haven/pseuds/mysterywoozi
Summary: The one where Chan has to help plan a gay wedding while pretending he isn't in love with one of the grooms- and hey, who's that reporter and why does everyone think he and Chan have a Thing going on?(loosely based on 27 dresses)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollyeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/gifts).



> (title taken from a quote by wayne gretzky)

­­­­Soonyoung is breathtaking.

It’s not the first time Chan’s thought it, not even close. He’s always thought Soonyoung was an amazing dancer, ever since the first time he set foot in Hurricane Studios three years ago. It’s just– his every movement is fluid and graceful, his entire body brimming with emotion no matter what style he dances. He dances like there’s nothing he’d rather do, nowhere he’d rather be. That’s what drew Chan to him, like a moth to a flame, because Chan has always had a thing for the strong and ambitious.

It didn’t hurt, of course, that Soonyoung is also funny and charming and one of the most charismatic people Chan has ever met. His eyes shine bright and his passion burns brighter, and Chan has never fallen so hard for anyone in his life.

“Morning, Channie!” Soonyoung cries suddenly, jolting Chan out of his thoughts.

Chan smiles as Soonyoung clicks off the music. He hands Soonyoung a bottle of water when he comes close, feeling his heart stutter when Soonyoung pants his thanks and pushes his sweaty hair up off his forehead.

“That was pretty cool, hyung,” Chan says, trying to sound normal and like he isn’t watching the bob of Soonyoung’s Adam’s apple as he gulps down the water. “Were you choreographing?”

“Nah, just warming up a little before my class. How was the wedding?”

Chan groans. “Why do they keep pinching me?”

Soonyoung leers at him in a way that is probably supposed to be ridiculous, which it is, but also makes Chan flush pink. “All the hot noonas can’t keep their hands off you, huh?” he teases, winking exaggeratedly. “I told you your Michael Jackson hip-thrusts would land you a date.”

“More like creepy ahjummas,” Chan interrupts, unamused, “and even if they were hot noonas why would I go out with someone who tried to molest me while I was working?”

Soonyoung laughs. “Alright, alright, sorry,” he grins, ruffling Chan’s hair. “I was just teasing. I’ve been there, it’s rough. I once had a grandpa grab my ass and refuse to let go, it was horrifying. Hang in there, kid.”

Chan swats his hand away, fixing his hair. “I’m not a kid,” he protests. He hates it when Soonyoung calls him that.

“Aw, but you are!” Soonyoung cooes, smothering Chan in a sweaty and frankly sort of disgusting hug that makes Chan blush anyway. “Our baby maknae, still fresh-faced and full of life! Not like the rest of us old farts, all jaded and cynical and tired of living–”

“Hyung!” Chan squeaks as he tries to wriggle out of Soonyoung’s grip, terrified Soonyoung will somehow hear his pounding heart and realise that Chan is in love with him. “Let go, ugh, you’re all gross!”

“Not until you let me love you!” Soonyoung tells him, and rubs his cheek on Chan’s, aggressively affectionate. “Maknae-yah~!”

\---

Here are the facts.

  1. Chan is kind of maybe sort of in love with Kwon Soonyoung.



 

  1. Chan is also almost 100% certain that Soonyoung thinks of him as a little brother.



 

  1. He says _almost_ because every time he makes up his mind to give up and move on, Soonyoung pulls shit like the hugging and cheek-rubbing and that one time Soonyoung insisted on smacking wet kisses to his face for his coming of age.



 

  1. So maybe, _maybe_ Soonyoung could _possibly_ , _ever-so-slightly_ … feel something for Chan too?



 

  1. But every time Chan musters up the courage to just confess and get it over with– Soonyoung goes and gets himself a girlfriend. Or, a little less commonly, a boyfriend. Either way–



 

  1. Chan is fucked.



\---

“Jun-hyung!” Chan yells when he spots Junhui’s now-purple hair in the crowd.

“Channie!” Junhui yells back, and suddenly Chan is being swept up in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, Channie, I missed you!”

“Me too, hyung,” Chan chokes, because Junhui is stronger than he looks, and is always at his strongest when giving hugs. Somehow, Chan manages to pry himself away, and takes one of Junhui’s bags off his shoulder. “How was the flight?”

“Oh, it was fine, but let me tell you, the guy next to me was snoring _so_ loudly–”

Junhui launches into a spirited retelling of how he had to climb over a man sleeping like the dead to get to the bathroom. Chan nods along, happy to listen to his friend chatter on. He suspects that he’ll get rather more tired of it over the next few days, but for now Junhui’s usual good cheer is infectious, and they chat about everything and nothing the whole way home.

“Sorry about this,” Junhui says sheepishly as they lug his suitcases up the stairs to Chan’s apartment– the lift is out of order _again_. “I hate to bother you, but–”

Chan waves the apology away. “You let me sleep on your couch for the better part of a year. It’s the least I can do.” Chan’s university roommate was always either smoking weed or hooking up with someone, neither of which Chan appreciated while he was trying to study. Junhui had been kind enough to let him crash on his couch most nights, and even cooked him dinner more than a few times. Chan ended up dropping out after one year, but from that year onwards, Chan’s been convinced Junhui was a saint.

“God, I’m out of shape,” Junhui pants when all his stuff is in Chan’s apartment and the door safely shut behind them. “I used to– to run up five flights of stairs like it was nothing.”

Chan grins. “It’s because you don’t dance anymore,” he chides. That’s how they’d met, in dance society. Junhui had some of the most graceful lines Chan’s ever seen, he’d been mesmerising to watch. “Hey, come to my class tomorrow, I’ll let you sit in for free.”

“Sure,” Junhui agrees easily, sinking onto the couch, “but don’t expect me to pull off anything fancy, I’m really rusty.”

“Your joints need some oiling there, old man?” Chan teases, and deftly dodges the pillow Junhui throws at him in retaliation.

\---

Bringing Junhui to the studio is a mistake.

Not because of the dancing. No, the dancing goes fine; Junhui is a little out of practice, but his movements are still fluid and graceful. Chan’s usual students giggle and steal glances at Junhui during warm-ups, but they pay attention during the class itself, so he doesn’t mind. Plus, he can’t really blame them– Junhui really is ridiculously attractive. Especially when you don’t know how much of a childish idiot he is on the inside.

That’s the mistake, really. Junhui is hot like burning, and Soonyoung is recently single. It’s such an inevitable outcome that Chan nearly brains himself on the wall for not realising it sooner.

It happens like a movie.

“Hey,” Soonyoung breathes after Chan’s introduced them. He’s already starry-eyed and slack-jawed, like he’s looking at the most attractive person he’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Junhui giggles nervously, flushing red to the tips of his ears, like he can’t believe he’s just met the love of his life.

It’s like every romantic cliché Chan never thought possible, and it’s soft and sweet and perfect, and Chan feels regret sink heavy like a stone in his stomach even as the sharp sting of envy digs its claws into his heart.

Yeah, bringing Junhui to the studio is a mistake.

\---

“So much goddamn _pinching_ ,” Chan grumbles, sliding into a seat at the bar. Nayoung, bless her, gives him a sympathetic look (well, as sympathetic as her stony expression ever gets) and wordlessly pours him two fingers of whiskey.

There’s a laugh to his left; when Chan looks up, a young man with cat-like eyes and light brown hair is smiling at him. “The ahjummas can never keep their hands to themselves, can they?” he says, voice gentle and honey-sweet. “I’ve been hiding from Auntie Jung’s claws all night.”

“Smart, they’re lethal,” Chan agrees darkly, tossing back more whiskey than he probably should. He eyes the stranger; he looks familiar, but Chan’s fairly sure they’ve never met. He’d remember meeting a man this handsome. “Bride or groom?” he asks.

“Oh, no, neither, I’m just here for work,” the stranger says. “I write for The Seoul Standard. Weddings are sort of my specialty.”

Chan makes a face, then promptly realises that’s probably really rude and tries to school his expression into one of polite interest. “That’s cool,” he manages awkwardly.

The stranger laughs. “It’s okay, it’s not exactly what I thought I’d be writing, either,” he admits. “But… I don’t know, it’s grown on me. I like weddings.”

This time Chan does his best not to react, but something must show anyway because the stranger bursts into laughter.

“I’m guessing you hate weddings,” the stranger teases, grinning.

“I don’t hate them,” Chan hedges, which isn’t _totally_ a lie. The stranger obviously doesn’t believe him anyway, raising his eyebrows at him.

Chan sighs. “It’s just– what’s the point? Like, what does it matter what flowers are in your bouquet, or how many tiers the cake has, or what colour the fucking invitations are? It’s a waste of time and money.”

The stranger hums thoughtfully. “Well, a wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Or, well, that’s the ideal, anyway. Can you blame people for wanting it to be perfect?”

Chan scoffs. “Bullshit,” he declares. “What _perfect wedding_? You don’t need ornately folded napkins on every fucking table to get married. People spend a fuckton of money on the _perfect wedding_ in the hopes that one _perfect_ day can make up for a lifetime in a shitty relationship.”

“That’s awfully judgemental of you to say,” the stranger says, tone light despite his words. “So you think people shouldn’t get married? Shouldn’t fall in love and commit to each other?”

“Oh, I have my reservations about love, too,” Chan begins darkly, thinking of how love has been nothing but a throbbing ache in his chest, but before he can continue, the MC signals at him across the room that it’s time for his second set.

Chan shoots him a thumbs-up, then downs the rest of his drink. “Time for work,” he says to the stranger, nodding at the stage. “See you around.”

The stranger tips his beer bottle at him as a goodbye. They don’t see each other again all night.

\---

“Ripped jeans or no?” Jun asks Chan, for probably the twelfth time in twenty minutes.

Chan groans, throwing himself backwards on the bed. Honestly, the first he heard that Junhui was going on a date with Soonyoung– “It’s not a _date_ , we’re just getting coffee!” Junhui had protested, but his face had been flushed and he’s been picking out an outfit for the past hour, so Chan’s pretty sure it’s a date– Chan’s first thought had been to sabotage it. In fact, he’s still a little tempted, especially since Junhui has been insufferably nervous and giddy all day, and Chan really doesn’t need the reminder. But– well. Junhui is a good friend, a good hyung who was there for Chan throughout his university days. Chan just can’t bring himself to ruin something Junhui’s this excited for. He is, unfortunately, too good a dongsaeng.

“I just mean, what if he thinks my knees are too knobby or something, one of my exes’ mom said that to me before–” Jun babbles on, frantic, and Chan has to swing himself back up so he can shoot Junhui a stern look.

“Hyung,” he says firmly, “your knees are fine. If he says anything about them, I’ll kick his ass. Okay?”

Chan really would. There’s something about Junhui that makes Chan want to protect him. Crush or not, anyone who could bring themselves to say a mean thing about innocent, sweet Junhui would get a taste of Chan’s steel-capped boots.

Junhui blinks, then grins at him sheepishly. “Thanks,” he says, ruffling Chan’s hair. “Ah, what would I do without you, Channie?”

Chan snorts. “Yes, yes, I’m the best dongsaeng, we already knew that,” he says, waving his hand. “More importantly, shouldn’t you get going? You’re going to be late.”

Junhui whips his head around to stare wide-eyed at the clock. “Oh, shit,” he yelps. “Thanks, Channie, you’re a lifesaver! I’ll see you later! You’re the best!”

When the front door slams shut behind him, Chan buries his face in his hands and hope he doesn’t go to hell for praying to every god he can think of that this date will end horribly.

\---

The date does not end horribly.

In fact, it goes so well that they go on another the next day. Literally, the next day, like, not even 24 hours after the first one ended. That spawns another date three days later, and another on the weekend, and soon Soonyoung and Junhui are nearly joined at the hip, both clearly falling fast and hard, neither of which is surprising to Chan. Soonyoung is always like this with new partners, and Junhui is entirely too trusting.

They try not to make it weird, especially since Junhui is still living with Chan. Soonyoung never spends the night, and they try to include Chan when they can, which means third-wheeling on not-dates at dessert places and pretending it doesn’t make him feel sick to his stomach to watch Soonyoung cooing at Junhui and feeding him mouthfuls of French fucking toast.

One day, over dinner, Junhui tells Chan he’s moving in with Soonyoung.

Chan nearly chokes on his jjajangmyeon. “What?” he demands, staring at Junhui bug-eyed. “You’ve only been dating for three weeks!”

Junhui’s smile is small and shy. “I know it’s fast,” he sighs, besotted, “but… he says he loves me, Channie.”

Chan feels his heart drop into his stomach like a stone. “Oh,” he manages somehow, heart beating wildly in his chest. It’s only been three weeks, Chan wasn’t prepared for something like this!

“I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t say it back,” Junhui says nervously, “but I think– I think I love him too.”

It’s all Chan can do to swallow around the lump in his throat, to run his hand through his hair to disguise his shaking hands. Love. _Love_!

Junhui must take his silence for disapproval. “Yeah, I know, it’s too fast, and I’m being stupid,” he sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Minghao told me that too. But… it’s hard to explain. It’s just– he’s the one, you know? I can _feel_ it.”

Chan – Chan can’t take this anymore. He’s standing and walking away before he knows it, wobbling a little.

“Channie? Are you okay? You look a little pale, are you feeling sick?” Junhui worries. His concern makes Chan feel even worse.

“Yeah,” Chan croaks, stumbling into his room. “I just– bed. Lie down.”

“Okay, rest well!” Junhui calls, right before Chan closes the door and collapses on the bed. They’re in _love_ , he thinks, despair and dread and sorrow whirling in his chest. They’re _moving in together_.

Chan does not cry. How could he, when this was all his own fault in the first place?

\---

“Noona,” Chan whines, aiming for adorable little brother. Nayoung looks stern but she’s really a big softie, especially for dongsaengs. “Just one more drink?”

Nayoung frowns, but doesn’t move to serve him. Chan pouts, except that’s a bad move, because it reminds him of the last time he pouted, when Soonyoung and Junhui had pinched his cheeks teasingly and bought him a whole plate of fried chicken, and _wow_ , Chan needs another drink to get through this.

“You always drink on the job?” someone asks, and Chan turns to see a slender man leaning against the bar next to him. It takes a moment, but his cat-like eyes finally ring the right bell in Chan’s brain– this is that reporter guy from the other night.

“I’ve actually just finished my last set, thank you very much,” Chan tells him primly, a little offended because he may be trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol, but he’s still a professional. “I don’t know how you write articles about these weddings with such low attention to detail, reporter-nim.”

Cat-Eyes snorts. “You forget, dancer-nim, that we’ve crossed paths before,” he retorts. “You never stay once you’ve finished all your sets, so when I saw you were still here, I figured you must have had a reason.”

Chan is surprised. He hasn’t done a wedding gig since the last time they spoke– does that mean Cat-Eyes was watching him even before then?

“Yes, well, typically when I tell a crowd I’ve finished my last set, that means I’ve finished my last set,” Chan snarks at him anyway, because he can’t very well back down now. “I’m just trying to get a drink in peace.”

Nayoung pretends not to hear him, busily mixing cocktails for a group of older ladies.

“Looks like she’s cutting you off,” Cat-Eyes says lightly.

Chan groans, and gives up. “Right, fuck it, if I can’t even drink here, I’m going home.”

“What, already? No diatribe about how marriage is a farce?” Cat-Eyes teases. “I was kind of looking forward to hearing the rant on love and commitment.”

He means well. He probably does, but Chan really is not in the mood for it at all. “Falling in love,” he tells Cat-Eyes, solemn and soft and deadly serious, “ruins your life.”

Cat-Eyes looks surprised, taken aback. He reaches out a little, looking like he wants to say something, but Chan pushes off the bar and walks away before he gets the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

Three months pass, and Chan gets used to it. It’s the same as any other time Soonyoung’s had a girlfriend, he tells himself. Except, well, this time it’s a little worse, because he has to put up with Junhui gushing to him about Soonyoung being a great boyfriend. And Junhui starts working at the studio too. And he can’t hang out with either of them without the other being around.

Okay, it’s a lot worse, but Chan deals with it, because he’s not That Guy who gets salty about the guy he likes dating someone else. Chan is an adult, and a good friend, and he’s going to be supportive and happy for his friends.

(Even if it fucks him up.)

Chan bumps into Cat-Eyes a few more times too, when they happen to work the same wedding. Their chats don’t last very long, but are always full of teasing and banter and almost-but-not-quite flirting. Nayoung can roll her eyes at them and shoot Chan meaningful looks all she wants, but it’s clear to Chan that neither of them mean anything by it, so Chan’s happy to leave it right on the edge, as a bit of harmless fun with a handsome stranger.

Neither of them bring up the topic of love again.

Chan really does gets used to it. He settles into a routine, learns how to tamp down on his feelings until it’s just a dull ache in his chest instead of a sharp pain. He keeps himself busy, doesn’t give himself time to wallow, and gets on with his life.

After all, Soonyoung dates people all the time, and he breaks up with them all the time, too. That this time it’s Junhui he’s dating doesn’t make a difference. One day, Junhui, too, will be just an ex. Chan just has to endure for a little longer.

Just a little longer.

\---

And then, of course, everything changes.

\---

Chan knocks back his drink the moment Nayoung sets it down in front of him. He barely know how he made it here, how he finished his set, but he’s here and it’s an open bar and Chan– Chan needs a drink or five.

> ( _“Channie, we have something to tell you!”_ )

Nayoung’s concerned, but his misery must be evident, because she keeps serving him past the usual three-drink rule she usually keeps him to. Chan doesn’t complain. He needs it.

> ( _“It’s huge news, it’s really exciting, and we thought you should be the first to know, since you were the one who got us together and all–”_ )

He doesn’t even know what he’s drinking anymore, just–

> ( _“The thing is, Channie–”_ )

–knows that it burns on its way down–

> ( _“We’re getting married!”_ )

–and helps him forget.

He doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to feel, doesn’t want anything but to get absolutely shitfaced tonight.

“Another,” he slurs at Nayoung. She hesitates, but he’s still feeling, still thinking, so he’s obviously not drunk enough yet. “Noona, another.”

She still doesn’t give him any alcohol, so Chan slams his hands on the bar and stands up to– well, he doesn’t know what he was going to do, but it doesn’t matter, because the moment he tries to stand, his legs wobble and nearly give out on him.

“Woah, hey, easy there,” says a familiar voice, and suddenly there’s warm weight against his skin, holding him up and keeping him steady. “You okay?” Chan turns towards his saviour, vision swimming. He barely makes out cat-eyes soft with concern before he gives up, head lolling backwards and eyes slipping shut.

“M’fine,” Chan says. Or tries to say, because what comes out sounds more like an unintelligible groan. He doesn’t know who he’s leaning against, but he’s surprisingly comfortable.

It’s all a blur from there. He can hear his saviour saying something, can hear Nayoung replying, but his brain is too foggy to register the words.

The only other thing Chan remembers is throwing up on a very nice pair of Oxford shoes.

\---

Chan wakes up to sunlight streaming on his face. He groans, turning his head in an attempt to escape. This is ridiculous, he hasn’t had an issue with this since high school, his apartment doesn’t face the morning sun–

Wait.

Chan shoots up in horror, suddenly wide awake. He’s lying on a lumpy beige sofa that’s just slightly too small for him, in the middle of a living room he doesn’t recognise. He groans, burying his face in his hands. God, what happened last night?

“Oh good, you’re up,” says a honey-sweet voice, and Chan looks up sharply to see, of all people, Cat-Eyes. He’s wearing pajama bottoms adorned with little cartoon rabbits, Chan thinks wildly. Oh god, is he in Cat-Eyes’ house?

Alright, one step at a time. Chan takes a deep breath, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “What happened?” he croaks, throat hoarse, even though he kind of doesn’t want to know.

Cat-Eyes hands him a glass of water and takes a seat on the coffee table. Chan cautiously accepts, taking a grateful gulp. “You got wasted at the Song-Oh wedding,” Cat-Eyes says, sipping at his own mug of what smells like coffee. “You couldn’t tell me where you lived. Nayoung didn’t know and I didn’t want to get you in trouble with the organisers by asking them, so I took you to my place. Don’t worry,” he adds, catching Chan’s expression, “I dumped you on the couch and you slept like a log. Nothing happened. Well, apart from you throwing up on my shoes.”

Chan groans. “I’m sorry,” he manages through his shame. “I’ll– buy you a new pair, god, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I threw up on you.” And then he groans, because for all they’ve bantered and flirted and teased over the past few months, they’ve never thought it necessary to exchange _names_.

Cat-Eyes raises his eyebrows.

Chan buries his face in his hands, hot shame creeping up his neck. “I’m, uh. My name is Lee Chan,” he offers miserably.

“I know?” Oh god, is Cat-Eyes laughing at him? He definitely sounds amused, oh god, Chan can’t decide if he’s mortified or furious. “It’s hard to forget when you announce it before every performance.”

He… does. He really does. Shit, so Cat-Eyes has known who he is this whole time?!

“Fine, well,” Chan snaps, embarrassed, “you mind introducing yourself so I don’t have to keep calling you Cat-Eyes in my head?”

Cat-Eyes blinks like he’s surprised, then laughs. “I’m Joshua,” he says, a hint of an accent creeping into his voice. American? “Hong Joshua. You call me Cat-Eyes?”

“Yeah, because you look like a sly asshole,” Chan retorts, because there’s no need to give Joshua a big head.

“Harsh! Is that any way to treat a hyung?”

Chan scowls. “Hey, you don’t know how old I am. I could be the hyung here.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure you’re younger than me. I’m 25.”

Ah, hell. Something must show on Chan’s face, because Joshua laughs. “I knew it, I knew you were a sweet little dongsaeng,” he cooes. “How old are you?”

“…I’m 21.”

“Cute.”

“Bite me.”

Joshua just grins, which, ugh, Chan can’t believe it’s even more irritating in broad daylight. The throbbing ache of his hangover really isn’t helping either. God, Chan really shouldn’t have drunk so much last night, he knew he shouldn’t, but he’d been feeling so shitty after Soonyoung and Junhui told him they were getting– fuck, getting _married_ –

No. No, no, he’s not going down that road, not right now. He just has to– push through, just get through his day–

Shit. He has work today, _fuck_.

“What time is it?” Chan demands, patting down his pockets. Where is his phone?

“Just past ten in the morning,” Joshua offers, picking up Chan’s phone from beside him on the coffee table and handing it to him.

“Ten?!” Chan snatches his phone and leaps to his feet, horrified. He has a class to teach in, fuck, half an hour. “Shit, sorry, I have to go, I have work, I really–”

He hobbles out the door as quickly as he can, mouth fuzzy and head throbbing, and doesn’t realise he didn’t get Joshua’s number before he left until he’s on the subway.

Fuck. He can’t remember where Joshua lives now, either. How’s he going to buy him a new pair of shoes?

\---

Chan bursts into the studio with a blessed six minutes to spare.

“Hey, rough night?” Soonyoung greets, surprised, as Chan barrels past him into the employee toilet so he can at least rinse his mouth out. His expression suddenly turns leery. “Or was it a _really good_ night?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Chan feels sick at the implication, at how happy Soonyoung is to be making it. God, he’d nearly forgotten at Joshua’s this morning, but now that Soonyoung’s here, engagement ring shining silvery-bright on his finger, everything comes crashing back, the anger, the envy, the helpless misery.

“I have a class,” he says shortly, and tries to escape.

“Woah, hang on, you still have a couple minutes,” says Soonyoung, catching Chan with a hand on his chest. He flashes a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. It’s just– I’m happy for you, y’know? You’ve always been all work, work, work. I mean, I understand that, of course I do, but–” Soonyoung sighs, then gives Chan a tiny smile. “I just mean, it’s good to see you letting loose a little. Putting yourself out there. Getting back on the horse, or whatever. I know I’m technically your boss, but I like to think we’re friends, too.”

Chan’s mouth goes dry. “Yeah,” he says faintly. “Of course we’re friends.”

Soonyoung beams at him so bright and warm, oblivious to the envy-misery-hurt roiling in Chan’s stomach. “Awesome,” he chirps. “Now go on, you have a class to teach.”

Chan opens his mouth to agree, then promptly turns green and has to shove Soonyoung out of the way so he can vomit into the toilet.

Well. At least he didn’t throw up on anyone this time.

\---

Chan spends the next few days wondering how to get in touch with Joshua. He wishes it was for as noble a reason as ‘he really helped me out and I want to repay his kindness’, but really it’s mostly because Chan threw up on Joshua’s suede shoes, promised to buy him a new pair, and then promptly disappeared without leaving any sort of contact details because he was ‘late for work’. Which, he really _was_ late for work, but he’s entirely aware that Joshua probably thinks he was just trying to get out of taking responsibility. Chan feels bad about it, morally, but also Joshua is a journalist with pretty hefty clout in the wedding industry, and he would hate for Joshua to, like, tweet about the asshole who ruined his favourite shoes and then disappeared. Chan would never be hired ever again.

So, yes. Not entirely unselfish reasons. Still, doesn’t make a difference, because while googling “Joshua Hong wedding” told him which newspaper Joshua worked for, it didn’t list any direct email address or phone number, and somehow Chan thinks emailing The Seoul Standard with ‘hey I’m looking for a writer of yours I swear I just want to give him money’ isn’t going to get the intended response.

At this point, Chan is just sort of hoping they bump into each other at the next wedding. Or, well, half of him is, because the other half is hoping they never meet again, because Chan’s discovered it’s extremely embarrassing to throw up on and be dragged home by the hot stranger you’d sort of been casually flirting with for the past few months. Even if his wedding entertainment career gets flushed down the drain, well, hey, at least he’ll never have to see Joshua again?

“Well, fuck you too!” Soonyoung’s shout interrupts Chan’s musings. Chan looks up to see him standing at the reception desk, furiously slamming the studio’s landline back into its cradle.

“Hyung, you okay?” Chan asks cautiously. Soonyoung’s temper isn’t to be trifled with.

Soonyoung huffs angrily. “Fucking wedding halls,” he spits, folding his arms. “Fucking bigots, every single one of them–”

“Oh no, not another one,” Junhui groans, appearing at the door to one of the smaller studios. He comes over to bundle Soonyoung up in his arms, pressing his face into Soonyoung’s hair and nuzzling gently. Soonyoung melts into his touch with a sigh.

Chan’s chest gives a sharp twinge at the sight. He quickly turns away under the pretense of filling up his bottle at the water cooler.

“We’ll make it work,” Junhui is saying softly. “It’ll be okay, honey, you’ll see.”

“How?” Soonyoung snaps bitterly. “We’ve tried practically every wedding hall in Seoul, none of them will host our wedding. Not a single one!”

What. Chan can’t help but turn around in horror at that. Gay marriage wasn’t exactly celebrated, but it was completely legal, and Seoul was the most liberal part of the country. That so many halls are refusing to do a gay wedding is outrageous, Chan can’t believe he hasn’t seen this issue raised more at Pride.

“I’m sure we’ll find someone,” Junhui says, soothing. “Or hey, worst case scenario, we can plan our own wedding, like in those American films!”

“Oh my god,” says Soonyoung, pulling away to look at Junhui with wide eyes. “Babe, you’re a genius! We should just plan our own wedding!”

Chan nearly chokes on his own spit. Did Soonyoung really say that? Does he know how much work it is to plan a whole goddamn wedding? He’s seen the meticulous attention to detail it requires, he’s seen the managers at his usual hall barking orders and nearly tearing their hair out when something doesn’t go to plan. Does he really want to do a _whole_ wedding _without any help_?

Junhui looks a little alarmed. “Uh,” he says hesitantly. “I know I said it, but, realistically, can we actually do that? I mean, should we find a wedding planner, or…?”

“We don’t even need one!” Soonyoung says, starting to get excited now. “Apart from, like, the person marrying us, a wedding is basically a huge party, isn’t it? I’m awesome at throwing parties!”

Okay, right, Chan has to speak up. “No offence, hyung, but weddings are a bit of a step up from a house party. It’s not as easy as you think.”

Both Soonyoung and Junhui’s faces fall so dramatically that Chan immediately backpedals, “Not that it’s impossible! I mean, you could probably do it yourself, it’s just– it’s going to be a lot of work.”

“But it’ll be worth it,” Junhui cooes, his gaze shy and saccharine-sweet and locked on Soonyoung.

“That it will,” Soonyoung agrees, just as soppy and disgusting.

Chan wants to die, a little, in more ways than one.

\---

Soonyoung and Junhui form a wedding-planning team comprising of themselves and their best men. And, of course, Chan who is a key member of this team, because he’s the only one of them with any sort of substantial wedding experience and contacts. It’s a good thing he does, too, because they decide to hold the wedding in the garden of one of those contacts, a lesbian florist who was just as appalled as Chan was to hear that Soonyoung and Junhui had been refused by all the wedding halls. Her house is a little further away from the city, but her garden is huge and absolutely stunning. She also offered to provide any other flowers they might need, all for a way cheaper rate than any of the other venues they’d viewed, so they’d all agreed there was no reason to turn her down.

Catering was a fairly easy pick, too. One of Junhui’s greatest joys in life is eating– in the few months since he moved to Seoul, he’s already made a list of his top 100 restaurants, some of which he’s a beloved regular at. It was simple to go down the list asking the owners if they’d cater the wedding; eventually they got a yes from number 7.

The problems arise when they start considering the details. You’d think these things would be best left to the happy couple, but Soonyoung has an affinity for leopard print and Junhui is so easy-going he would literally let Soonyoung drape the hall in leopard-print banners. Chan is half sure that Soonyoung’s best friend, Wonwoo, is still not convinced that the wedding is actually taking place, because he treats every decision with a nonchalant shrug, like it doesn’t matter. Which, okay, Chan kinda gets it, he doesn’t get why the colour of the tablecloths really makes any difference to a ceremony that’s supposed to be a celebration of your love or whatever, but still, he doesn’t think he’d want to have an _ugly_ wedding.

Thank god for Minghao, Junhui’s best friend who’s studying fashion. He’s got the best sense of them all, picks colours and fabrics with an ease none of them could ever hope to imitate. The only problem is– he’s back in China, and the group has to take turns holding up Junhui’s shitty iPad to show him literally everything.

“The lighting’s bad,” Minghao is saying, the Korean a little clumsy in his mouth. “Is this pink more rosebud or flamingo?”

Chan truly has no fucking clue. Hell, he hadn’t even known there was a difference between the two!

“Um,” Junhui says, clearly struggling as well. “It’s, uh, it’s pretty light, I guess?”

Minghao nods sagely. “Flamingo,” he says, furiously scribbling notes in a sketchbook.

“What about pink _zebra-print_ ,” Soonyoung suggests hopefully, to universal groans. Minghao is in the middle of delivering his second lecture of the day on why bold prints are not appropriate for wedding themes when the florist, Miyoung-noona, steps out of her house, clapping her hands to get their attention. What makes Chan freeze, however, is the man that follows behind her, laughing with a honey-sweet voice, eyes round and cat-like.

Shit. Chan is simultaneously glad that his face is obscured behind a round topiary of some sort, and annoyed with himself because really, the whole shoe thing happened weeks ago, and it wasn’t like Chan intentionally never got in touch, so there’s no reason for him to be this embarrassed.

“Everyone!” Miyoung calls cheerily, oblivious to Chan’s growing horror. “This is Hong Joshua, a friend of mine who covers weddings for The Seoul Standard. I asked if he wanted to cover this one, maybe shed some light on how difficult it is for gay couples to hire planners.”

“Kwon Soonyoung,” Soonyoung introduces, shaking Joshua’s hand. He puts an arm around Junhui’s waist with an easy affection that makes Chan swallow and look away. “My fiancé, Wen Junhui.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Joshua says, shaking Junhui’s hand. “I heard how hard it was for you guys, that really sucks. I’m not sure how much the editors will let me get away with, but I’m currently working on a series about how to plan your own wedding, so I’ll frame it as part of that. Hopefully we’ll be able to sneak some stuff past the radar that way. If you don’t mind me writing about you, of course.”

“Oh, no, we’d be thrilled,” Soonyoung says, smiling. “Right, babe?”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t mind,” Junhui says, with that awkward-shy smile he always gets when he meets someone for the first time.

“Great!” Joshua smiles, friendly but professional. “Do you mind if I tag along while you guys are making preparations? Just to get the full picture of what’s happening, how and why you’re making choices, what factors go into weighing the pros and cons of each option, that sort of thing.”

“Fine by me, the more the merrier,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’d best introduce you to the boys, then, if we’re going to be spending lots of time together! This is Jeon Wonwoo and Xu Minghao, our best men, and over– oh, where is–” Soonyoung cranes his neck around, searching. Chan barely has a moment to panic before he’s calling loudly, “Channie! C’mere for a sec!”

Fuck. Chan awkwardly steps out from behind the topiary, forcing himself to look Joshua in the eye and not at the ground like he desperately wants to. Joshua looks surprised, mouth half-open as he watches Chan come closer.

Soonyoung slings an arm around Chan’s neck, grinning widely. “This here is my favourite dongsaeng, Lee Chan. He works the wedding circuit, too– maybe you recognise him?”

“Yes,” says Joshua, starting to look faintly amused. “We’ve met.”

Chan tries not to wince. Both Soonyoung and Junhui make shocked noises.

“You never told us about him,” Junhui says, surprised. “You tell us about everyone you meet!”

“Yes, well,” Chan snaps, embarrassed. He hadn’t told them in the beginning because it had felt a little like a betrayal, to be sort-of-almost flirting with a cat-eyed stranger when he was still so in love with Soonyoung, and then the shoe thing had happened and there was no way he could explain just why he got blackout drunk at his workplace without letting slip about just how he’d felt about the engagement.

“Well, what?” Soonyoung prompts, clearly chomping at the bit for some juicy gossip. “What, is this guy special, or–”

“So, Joshua-ssi, we were in the middle of picking out tablecloths, do come and have a look at the options,” Chan says loudly, and grabs Joshua by the wrist to drag him over to where maybe thirty swatches of basically the same shade of pink are sitting on a long table. Soonyoung kind of looks like he wants to follow them, but thank god for Junhui, who just nudges him with an elbow and whispers furiously into his ear. Or, well, Chan takes it back, Junhui is probably also under entirely the wrong assumption about him and Joshua and is just waiting to pounce on Chan later. Ugh.

“Lee Chan-ssi, hello,” Joshua says pleasantly, eyes twinkling like he thinks this whole thing is hilarious. “I haven’t seen you since you promised to buy me a new pair of shoes and then ran, nearly screaming, from my apartment.”

“Shh!” Chan hisses urgently. “First of all, let’s not encourage them, they already think there’s something going on between us–”

“Isn’t there? I thought drooling on my sofa was a sign of deep everlasting love–”

“And secondly!” Chan interrupts, glaring. “I’m sorry about what happened that day, and I promise I really did have work, and I really am good to buy you a new pair of shoes, but please, I’m begging you, don’t mention it to anyone, okay? Please? I’ll owe you big time, I’ll– I’ll buy you two pairs of shoes, or even three, just _please_ –”

Something in Chan’s voice must get through to him, because Joshua’s teasing grin melts into something softer. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he says, voice gentle. “I promise I won’t say anything you haven’t said first. No shoe-bribery necessary. Okay?”

Chan nearly sags with relief. Thank god, he’d expected there to be more questions. “Okay,” he sighs gratefully. “Thanks. And sorry.”

Joshua smiles. “Buy me a coffee sometime, we’ll call it even,” he says lightly, teasing. “I won’t even ask for your number, you can go right back to avoiding me after.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you!” Chan splutters, shoving Joshua’s shoulder. And then straightens up, remembering they have an audience. “I was already behind the topiary when you came in, I just… forgot to move.”

“Sure,” Joshua says innocently. “Of course. I believe you.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Is that how you speak to a hyung?”

Chan smiles sweetly. “Don’t be an ass, _hyung_.”

“Brat,” Joshua chides, but there’s no heat. “Alright, fun’s over, let’s get down to work. Tell me: which of these lovely shades of pink have you settled on?”

\---

Joshua quickly becomes another key member of the wedding-planning team. He’s technically supposed to be just observing, but he generously offers some of his LGBTQ-friendly contacts when they run into any walls. Chan thinks he hasn’t met this many gay people this quickly since his first Pride.

“How do you know literally every gay person in the wedding industry,” Chan wonders out loud, when Soonyoung and Junhui are busy taste-testing potential wedding cakes.

“You know what they say about birds of a feather,” Joshua says, grinning. “Also, my best friend is both gay and a wedding planner, so really I mostly know these people through him.”

That… makes a lot of sense. More than Chan’s initial assumption, which was that Joshua had somehow stumbled upon them the same way he had Chan, by chatting them up at weddings.

“I asked him if he wanted to help a couple of poor gays out,” Joshua continues, “but he’s pretty busy right now, so he couldn’t find the time.”

Chan wants to ask more about this friend, wondering if they’ve met before, but his attention is drawn away by Soonyoung’s excited yelp of, “Can you make us a cake sculpture of our _full bodies_?!”

“No!” shrieks Minghao.

“Um,” says Junhui.

“Oh god,” mutters Chan, and hurries over before Junhui can inevitably cave to Soonyoung’s whining. No matter his feelings on the wedding, he is not going to let two of his best friends pay an absurd amount of money for a stupid cake!

\---

Unfortunately, this becomes Chan’s life. Soonyoung keeps wanting bigger and crazier things for his wedding, and while Junhui doesn’t exactly oppose it, necessarily, he doesn’t quite seem to support it either. Minghao is becoming increasingly impatient with Soonyoung’s tastes and has taken it upon himself to speak up for Junhui. Wonwoo is absolutely no help, because he seems perfectly happy to do nothing but watch this wedding fall to shambles around his feet, and Joshua, of course, isn’t in a position to say anything, so it falls on Chan to sort everyone out and keep them on track.

After a couple weeks of this, everyone is, understandably, a little on edge.

“I don’t see why your opinion factors so heavily into this!” Soonyoung explodes, a good hour and a half into arguing over wedding outfits. “It’s not your wedding, it’s ours! Aren’t you supposed to be supporting Junhui’s decisions?”

“I would if he were making any, but as it is you’re just steamrolling over him!” Minghao shoots back, spiteful.

“Xiao Hao,” Junhui begins, clearly uncomfortable.

Minghao ignores him. “You’ve been so fucking loud with what you want that Junhui feels like he can’t say no!”

“Don’t put words in his mouth, Junhui hasn’t said a single thing against any of my decisions–”

“Of course he hasn’t! Junhui never fights when he has a different opinion, you of all people should know that–”

“Are you accusing me of not knowing my own _fiancé_ –”

“Xiao Hao, it’s really fine, I really don’t mind,” Junhui starts to say.

“No, it’s not fine!” Minghao yells. “If he’s like this now, he’s going to be like this your whole life! Is that what you want, to keep giving in to this man who doesn’t care enough about you to ask your damn _opinion_ –”

“How fucking dare you?!” roars Soonyoung. “How fucking _dare_ you say that, I love Junhui more than anyone in the world–”

“Then start fucking acting like it!” Minghao roars back. “Instead of just swaggering around _talking_ about it–”

“Enough!” Chan bellows. Everyone falls silent, probably out of shock more than anything else. “For god’s sake, stop _fighting_.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself, tries to be the adult here even though literally all of them are older than him.

“But Channie,” Soonyoung begins in a whine, but Chan shoots him a sharp glare. Crush or not, this has gone on far too long.

“It’s true,” he says harshly, “that Junhui-hyung would rather suffer in silence than fight with someone he loves.”

“I’m not _suffering_ –” Junhui starts, but Chan turns his gaze on him and he falls silent.

“This is your wedding, too,” Chan tells him, even and stern but not unkind. “You have just as much right to have it the way you want as Soonyoung-hyung. If you love each other enough to get married, you should love each other enough to be honest.

“And you,” he turns back to Soonyoung firmly, “just because Junhui lets you get away with all this bullshit doesn’t mean you can just assume he always agrees with you. Just look at his face the next time you suggest something, there have been several things where it’s so plain he doesn’t agree, but he puts up with it because he loves you. Is that really what you want, for him to just roll over and let you walk all over him?

“And,” he grabs the iPad so Minghao can see how thoroughly unimpressed Chan is with him, “Minghao-hyung. I don’t know you that well, and I understand being outraged on Junhui-hyung’s behalf, but we’re all adults here, okay, so next time let’s try to use our adult words. Getting angry and shouting isn’t going to solve anything.”

Chan takes a deep breath and lets it out with a huff. “I think we’re done for the day,” he says flatly, completely done with his stupid hyungs. “See you guys tomorrow.”

He stalks out of the room and doesn’t turn back to look at their reactions.

 

Chan’s bravado carries him all the way outside, but the moment he closes the door behind him it’s like the fight seeps out of him, leaves him leaning weakly against the wall, shaking. He’s just so _tired_ , tired of constantly having to break up fights, tired of having to watch Soonyoung and Junhui plan their fucking wedding, tired of pretending he doesn’t feel the way he does.

He’s not crying, not quite yet, but his heart is thumping rabbit-quick in his chest, and his breath is coming in dry almost-sobs, and– he can’t deal with this right now.

The door swings open, and Chan quickly tries to smooth out his expression, pretends he isn’t a hair’s breadth away from some kind of breakdown. “Hey,” says Joshua, quiet and hesitant.

“Hey,” Chan manages. There’s a moment of silence while Joshua closes the door behind him and settled next to Chan against the wall. Chan braces himself for questions, or maybe awkward gestures of comfort, or god forbid, attempts to get him to talk about his _feelings_ , ugh.

“Wanna get out of here?” Joshua says instead.

“Um,” says Chan, surprised. It’s well into the night, where exactly does Joshua intend to go? “Where?”

Joshua shrugs. “Away,” he says simply, cat-eyes looking straight at Chan. He doesn’t elaborate, but his gaze is piercing, like he can see right through Chan, can see how tired and lost and defeated Chan feels. It makes something stir in Chan’s stomach, makes his pulse race and his breath catch in his throat.

Chan swallows, trying to dispel the feeling. “This sounds like the perfect cover to take me to some secluded place and kill me,” he jokes, hoping to coax Joshua back into their usual banter.

Joshua doesn’t take the bait. “You don’t have to say yes,” he says. “But I think you’d like the place I’d take you.”

“And where is that?”

That makes Joshua smile, small and soft. “Secret,” he teases gently. “Do you trust me?”

All Joshua does is look, but it makes Chan feel– raw, exposed. Vulnerable. It should be terrifying, and it kind of is, but somehow…

“Yes,” Chan hears himself whisper. “I trust you.”

\---

Joshua drives them outside the city, pulling to a stop just outside what looks to be some sort of hiking trail.

“Bit late for a hike,” Chan says, raising an eyebrow at Joshua. “Wait, did you actually bring me out here to kill me?”

Joshua just laughs, leaning towards the backseat to grab a duffel bag of some sort. “C’mon,” he says, eyes twinkling, and gets out of the car. He leads Chan further into the woods, saying, “I used to live around here, in a share house with ten other guys. I always came here when I needed some time to myself.”

“There are other quiet places to have alone time that don’t require an hour’s drive,” Chan can’t help but retort. He nearly slips on a patch of moss; Joshua quickly catches him by the arm to steady him.

“Sorry, should’ve warned you,” Joshua says with an apologetic smile, but doesn’t stop pushing on through the trees. He doesn’t let go of Chan; Chan doesn’t either, because if he’s going down, he’s taking Joshua with him.

They soon come to a clearing on a hilltop. A single picnic table sits to the edge; Chan can faintly hear the babble of a brook through the sound of crickets chirping all around them. Admittedly, it’s nice, peaceful, but it still isn’t quite _special_ , and Chan feels a little disappointed.

“You brought me out here for a midnight picnic?” he asks dryly, not bothering to hide how unimpressed he is.

“Not quite,” says Joshua, and pulls a blanket out of his bag.

Chan snorts. “You got a tent in there, too?” he asks, watching Joshua spread it out on the ground.

“No,” says Joshua, not even fazed by Chan’s quips. He’s already kicking off his shoes and laying down on the blanket. “A tent would just block the view.”

“What view?” Chan asks, sceptical even as he follows Joshua’s lead, and lies down, too.

He is promptly struck speechless. The night sky is dotted with countless stars, more than Chan has ever seen, maybe in his whole life. The Milky Way stretches beautifully above them, painting a stark line against the navy-purple sky.

“Wow,” breathes Chan, amazed.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Joshua agrees with a sigh. “This is why I keep coming back here. The light pollution is too bad in the city centre to see anything like this.”

“Alright, this is pretty special,” Chan begrudgingly admits, making Joshua laugh. “A bit cold, though.”

Joshua sits up and starts rooting around in his bag. He produces a thicker, fluffier blanket from his bag and tosses it over them both. Chan sighs and burrows into its warmth.

“Better?” Joshua asks.

“Much.”

They just lie there, staring up at the sky in comfortable silence, for quite a while. Here, it feels like Chan’s troubles are so far away, like it’s safe to just stop _thinking_ for a little while. His mind starts to wander aimlessly, his body relaxing like it hasn’t in a long time. He’s not worried about choreography, or a wedding gig, or anything. Here, he can just– let go.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but when he does he dreams of a honey-sweet laugh and cat-like eyes that hold galaxies in them.

\---

Things change, a little, after that. Soonyoung is extra careful to consult Junhui before making any suggestions. Minghao is slower to pounce on Soonyoung’s throat at any mistake. Junhui, on his part, is a bit more vocal about what he wants; even Wonwoo looks a little more interested in proceedings, actually giving input every now and again. There are still arguments, little ones, but it’s more like bickering than anything else now, and Chan doesn’t feel quite as much dread when he has to step in. He still isn’t quite sure whether that’s because the group generally argues less, or because he knows that if things get too much there’s always a quiet little hilltop clearing an hour outside the city where he can get some peace.

Things change with Joshua, a little, too. Sometimes Chan finds himself watching the way Joshua gestures with his hands while he talks, or the graceful slope of his neck, or the way his lips curl up just slightly into a gentle smile. He– he knows it’s happening, knows what it implies, but the thought of it makes his throat close up in fear, and his heart pound double time, so he quashes it and decides he’ll think about it later. Or never, never’s good, too.

Unfortunately, Chan isn’t the only one who’s noticed his new habit. Soonyoung in particular has taken to waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Chan when he catches Chan in the act, which of course acts as a stab to the chest every time. Junhui is obviously in on it, too, because he and Soonyoung start making excuses to leave Chan and Joshua alone on errands or the like, which, whatever, Chan’s starting to feel bettwe about it because the longer they plan this wedding, the more it sinks in that Soonyoung is getting _married_. To one of Chan’s best friends. Regardless of Chan’s feelings, it’s probably for the best if they never know about Chan’s stupid crush on Soonyoung, especially not while it’s still very much present.

And, well, if they were going to assume he was interested in anyone, Joshua is far from the worst candidate.

“I’m sorry about this,” Chan sighs, when he and Joshua are waiting in the queue to order at a coffee shop, waiting for the nearby photography studio to open so they can discuss options for recording the wedding. “I swear, Junhui told me they open at 8.”

“No big deal,” Joshua says cheerily. “I like a good croissant in the morning.”

“Great, I’ll buy you one with your coffee,” Chan says decisively. “I still owe you, remember? And the shoes, but I think those will have to wait for another day.”

“You know I was joking about buying me coffee, right? You don’t owe me anything. Hell, you don’t even owe me a new pair of shoes, I got them really cheap, like, years ago–”

“I don’t like being indebted to people!”

“Well, good thing you aren’t in my debt, then.”

“I am buying you a new pair of shoes whether you like them or not,” Chan tells him. He will not budge on this. They were suede. They are definitely 100% ruined.

“You are stubborn about the weirdest things,” Joshua says, exasperated. “Look, I’ll let you buy me coffee and a croissant if you let the shoe thing go.”

“Sure,” Chan lies to Joshua’s face. He is going to get this guy a new pair of shoes if it kills him. The stargazing trip alone is worth that much.

“So,” Joshua says as they settle at a table with their breakfasts in hand. “You know how I’m doing a series on how to plan your own wedding? I’m looking to cover entertainment next, so I was wondering if you’d let me interview you for it?”

Chan hums. “Interview _me_?” he repeats, through a mouthful of chocolate muffin. “What, you want to know who I think the best entertainers are, from an insider’s perspective?”

“No, dummy,” Joshua tuts. “I want to feature _you_ as one of the best entertainers.”

Chan’s jaw drops. He quickly snaps it shut again, because that can’t have been a great sight when his mouth was full of chocolate muffin, but he thinks it’s a fair response, because _what the fuck_.

“You– you think I– _me_ – _I’m_ one of the best entertainers,” Chan repeats, gobstruck.

“You _are_ ,” Joshua insists, and oh god, he’s being _serious_. “No, really, I’ve been to a lot of weddings, and given the rate of the hall you usually work at, I’m convinced you could charge a lot more for your performances.”

That’s– um. Wow. Chan ducks his head, face flushing with pleasure. He never really thought anyone would pay much attention to his wedding dances. He choreographs it all himself, of course, and he never slacks on them, but normally the guests are hyped and drunk enough that they probably don’t notice. “Thanks,” he manages somehow. “But, um, I don’t know. I mean, when I started doing weddings I never meant to be doing it for long, y’know? It was just something to help make ends meet.”

“Well, I think you’re good enough to make a career out of it,” Joshua says, earnest. “Unless working at the studio is a dream of yours?”

Chan can’t help the snort he lets out at that. “Not quite,” he says dryly, then sighs. “The studio… that was another thing that wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”

Chan falls silent, thinking. Joshua doesn’t push, just looks at him with those piercing eyes.

“I dropped out of university after my first year,” Chan continues after a moment, looking down at his coffee. “I was studying business because my parents wanted me to. I hated it, so I told them I’d run off to Seoul to be a dancer with or without their support. They… weren’t happy about it, but they knew I’d do it, so they sent me off with their blessing. The plan was to audition for anything in entertainment, and work at the studio in the meantime to pay the bills.”

Chan took a deep breath. “For a while, that’s what I did. But… the studio wasn’t doing too well, at the time, and I was tanking every audition, and after a while I just wasn’t making enough to cover my rent. Soonyoung-hyung had a friend who’d made some extra income by singing at weddings, so I thought, maybe I could do the same with dance. So I applied at the hall I work for now, and they took me on.”

Joshua hums. “Is that why you’re still there? The studio still isn’t doing well?”

Chan hesitates. “Well, no,” he admits. “A bunch of us started helping choreograph stuff for smaller entertainment companies, so we make a decent amount in royalties. That’s kind of why I stopped auditioning, because all I really wanted was to dance for a living.”

“And the weddings? Why do you keep doing them?”

Chan doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He’s never really thought about it. He’d just settled into a routine, and it just hadn’t occurred to him to stop. But, well, there must be something about the weddings that makes him _happy_ to do them. Why else would he stay?

“I guess, Chan says slowly, weighing the words in his mouth. “I guess it’s because I like to perform. And maybe, to an extent, because all the stuff I do at weddings is entirely my own. We collaborate, at the studio, which makes for brilliant pieces, but…”

“It’s not the same,” Joshua finishes for him. “I get it. It’s not the same when you always have to share the spotlight, huh?”

Spotlight. That’s probably the word. Maybe it’s selfish of Chan, but Joshua’s right. People like Soonyoung are happy just to watch their choreography being performed, but Chan– sometimes Chan wants to have the spotlight trained on him and only him.

“Well,” says Joshua after a bit of a silence, taking a sip of his coffee. “I won’t include you if you don’t want to. But… the piece won’t run for a few weeks yet, so let me know if you change your mind? I know it’s not my place, but I think– if you want something, then you should reach out and take it. I’m not saying that this piece is the only way to do it, but I think it’ll definitely help. If you want it.”

Chan hums non-committally, not looking at Joshua in the eye. It’s a lot, and it’s uncomfortable, and thus far every time anything uncomfortable happens Chan’s just– shoved it away to deal with it later. He’s not used to confronting this sort of thing head on.

Thankfully, Joshua doesn’t push. It’s quickly becoming one of Chan’s favourite things about him, that he never pushes, never demands anything Chan isn’t willing to give up. It’s surprising, from a journalist.

“How’s the croissant?” Chan asks, just to change the subject.

“Not bad. Sweet, actually, now that I know it’s stopped you from buying me a pair of shoes out of sheer guilt.”

Chan grins. “It’s done nothing of the sort,” he tells Joshua gleefully. “What’s your shoe size and address, I’m having a pair of shoes delivered to your doorstep.”

“We had a deal!” Joshua protests. “What is it with you and my shoes? And no, I’m never telling you my shoe size, you’ll have to wrestle them onto my flailing feet to get a comparison.”

“Oh, don’t think I won’t,” Chan laughs. “I’ve been dancing since I was 3 years old, there’s no way you’d beat me in anything to do with strength. I’d have you pinned in seconds.”

“Sure,” Joshua allows, with a mischievous grin. “But I play _dirty_.”

Maybe it’s the words, or the way he said them, or maybe just the look in his eye. All Chan knows is that his heart gives a loud thump at Joshua’s words, and suddenly the air is thick with– something. Chan doesn’t know if Joshua feels it too, but they’re just– sitting there, staring at each other, so he probably does?

“Oh– Shua, is that you?” a voice cuts through suddenly, breaking whatever spell had been over them. Joshua turns towards the voice; Chan coughs awkwardly and takes a swing of his coffee.

“Jeonghan,” Joshua says, surprised. He stands to hug an unfairly handsome man. Like, ridiculously handsome. Angel-descended-from-heaven-to-bless-ye-poor-mortal-souls handsome. This must be some kind of cosmic joke. Not that Chan is particularly insecure about his looks, but Junhui is supposed to be the only outrageously handsome person he knows. He can’t take another one, certainly not when he’s just barely gotten used to Joshua and his stupid cat-eyes and aegyosal and just– face, in general.

Chan is so busy lamenting this Jeonghan’s incredible beauty that it takes him a moment to make the connection. “Wait, do you mean _Yoon_ Jeonghan?” he asks in slowly dawning awe. “The wedding planner?”

Jeonghan smiles, a too-smooth, nearly predatory thing. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he says pleasantly.

Oh god, it really is him. Yoon Jeonghan is a huge name in the wedding industry. He organises huge weddings, mostly for celebrities and other assorted rich people, and they’re always absolutely stunning. He’s become something of a D-list celebrity by that alone. 

“Of course I’ve heard of you!” Chan gapes, then barely remembers his manners and bows. “Um, sorry, pleased to meet you, I’m Lee Chan.”

Jeonghan’s eyes light up. “Ah, Lee Chan-ssi,” he says, a lot more cheerfully. “The dancer, right? Shua here has done nothing but sing your praises–”

“He is a brilliant dancer,” Joshua interrupts smoothly, but Chan doesn’t miss the way he pinches Jeonghan in the side.

“Yes, of course,” Jeonghan agrees easily. “And what are you two up to so bright and early on a Sunday morning?”

“Well, seeing as there are breakfast items on our table, I’d say we’re eating breakfast,” Joshua says dryly, which makes Chan snort.

“Ah, Shua-yah, you are _hilarious_ ,” Jeonghan says, pinching Joshua’s cheek just a little too hard. Chan thinks this whole thing is hilarious, but decides to take mercy on poor Joshua’s cheek.

“We’re seeing a guy about videoing a wedding,” he supplies helpfully. “I think Joshua-hyung must have told you about it– the gay wedding?”

“Ah, right, of course.” A cold look slides into Jeonghan’s expression. “And are you one of the grooms, or…?”

It’s really shitty how even now, the reminder that Soonyoung is getting married, forever, and not to Chan, still makes his chest twist. “Ah, no, I’m just a friend, helping the grooms out.”

“Oh, right. And Shua is here with you because…?”

“Because it’s my job?” Joshua cuts in, raising an eyebrow.

“I think he’s invested in this wedding now,” Chan says, grinning. “He said he’s just supposed to observe, but half the contacts we’ve reached out to for the wedding have been through him.”

“It’s not _half_ ,” Joshua protests, as Jeonghan hums thoughtfully.

“That’s very kind of you, Shua-yah,” he says, sounding very patronising, then turns back to Chan with a smile. “Well, how far along are you in the planning process? Perhaps I might be able to help.”

“What?” Joshua frowns. “Didn’t you say you were too busy?”

“Oh, there’s always time for friends,” Jeonghan says, waving a hand dismissively. “And any friend of Shua’s is a friend of mine. You should’ve mentioned I’d be doing you a personal favour when you asked.”

“Is it really a personal favour if I gain nothing from it?” Joshua says, clearly unimpressed.

Jeonghan’s grin just widens. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to benefit from it somehow,” he says cryptically. “Now– put me in contact with the grooms, I’m sure I can fit them in for an hour somewhere…”

\---

Jeonghan ends up having a two-hour consultation with Soonyoung and Junhui only a few days later. Mischievous though Jeonghan seems, he takes his work seriously; Soonyoung and Junhui come out of the consultation with unified ideas instead of awkward compromises, and several pages worth of contacts in their notebooks. He even gives them a 10% friends and family discount off his regular rate.

“I only wish I could do more,” Jeonghan sighs when Chan catches up with him to thank him.

“No, no, this is more than enough, thank you so much,” Chan is quick to tell him, bowing low. “You have no idea how much trouble you’ve just saved me, Jeonghan-ssi.”

“Oh, none of that, Chan-ah,” Jeonghan tuts. “You and Joshua are so close, you can call me hyung.”

Chan is very much _not_ starstruck by this, thanks very much. “Okay, hyung,” he says obediently, hoping none of his glee shows on his face.

“Yes, dongsaeng,” Jeonghan teases. “I have to run, but take good care of our Shua, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, hyung,” Chan promises, grinning. Now he _definitely_ has to get Joshua that pair of shoes.

\---

Unfortunately, even though there are barely any disagreements over the wedding any more, Chan’s woes aren’t completely over, because his friends are still hellbent on forcing Chan and Joshua to spend time together. This time, they’re sent to pick up a batch of intricate hand-spun glass champagne flutes that the grooms are insisting must be used at the head table. Joshua, being the only one with a car, offered to go, and the others had made some very quick and convenient excuses to get out of it, so of course it was Chan who ended up going along.

Honestly, he didn’t mind in the beginning, because Joshua is pretty good company, but then Joshua’s shitty second-hand car decided to break down _literally in the middle of nowhere_ where neither of them are getting phone reception. Oh, and did Chan mention it’s raining?

“Shit,” Joshua curses, slamming a hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck, we need to call a tow, is there a rest stop or something nearby?”

Chan squints through the pouring rain. “I think there’s a diner over there,” he says, grim, “but it looks like it’s pretty far away. Maybe, 10, 15 minute walk?”

“Fuck,” Joshua swears again. “Okay, you stay here, I’ll run over and use their phone–”

“Are you crazy?” Chan demands. “I’m not sitting here while you go out there and catch pneumonia!”

“What, you’d rather catch pneumonia with me?”

“Well, I’m not staying here.”

“Channie–”

“We go together, or not at all,” Chan repeats firmly.

Joshua pauses, eyeing Chan like he’s considering his chances of winning this argument (absolutely none, like always), before sighing and throwing his hands up in defeat. “Okay, fine,” he grumbles, rooting around in the backseat. “I know I have an umbrella here somewhere–”

The umbrella turns out to be pathetically small. They try to huddle under it anyway, which helps keep maybe 30% of the rain off their bodies, but then a particularly strong gust of wind flips the umbrella inside out before knocking it right from Joshua’s hands.

They end up sprinting to the shade of the diner, both sopping wet and beginning to shiver.

“Sorry boys, we’re closing soon,” says who Chan assumes is the owner, an older woman who’s wiping down tables. She looks altogether unsurprised at the fact that there are two men dripping all over her floor. This sort of thing probably happens fairly often.

“Can we just use your phone?” Joshua pleads. “We’ll go right after, I promise.”

The old woman waves a hand at them impatiently. “Phone’s in the back near the toilet,” she grunts, and completely ignores their profuse thanks and bowing.

The phone turns out to be a payphone, which, it’s a good thing Chan insisted on coming along, because it’s an old one that only takes coins, and Joshua doesn’t have a single coin on him. (“Everything’s by card or contactless these days!” he whines when Chan gives him shit for it.) They call a tow truck, who estimates a few hours’ wait, because there’s been a pile-up on the highway, and the heavy rain is causing accidents right and left. Since they have change left, they decide they should probably call someone to let them know what happened. Soonyoung’s out for drinks with old high school friends, so they call Junhui, who, predictably, immediately becomes very concerned.

“Do you need me to come out there? Give you a jump?” Junhui asks, worried.

“No, the tow truck’s on its way, we’ll just have to wait a little,” Joshua says. “And anyway, apparently there’s a pile-up, I don’t think you’d make it any faster. Don’t worry, we’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s no problem, I know exactly which diner you’re talking about, I can come right down there– give you a lift, at the very least–”

“Hyung,” Chan cuts in, exasperated. “We’re fine. We just wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t worry– hyung? Hyung!”

 _Please enter more coins to continue your call,_ says the display on the payphone. Chan curses and hangs up.

“I really hope he doesn’t come out here,” Joshua sighs. Chan shakes his head. Anything’s possible, with Junhui.

The owner clears her throat pointedly, a mop already in hand. Chan and Joshua apologise and thank her again, bowing possibly even more than before, and hastily scurry out the door.

The run back is both better and worse than the run there. Worse, because the rain has somehow gotten even heavier, but better because they both yell like idiots, which leaves them in fits of laughter by the time they wrench Joshua’s car doors open and throw themselves inside.

“God, what are we going to do for the next few hours?” Chan laments. Joshua’s digging around in his backseat again, which, what doesn’t he have back there?

Nothing apparently, because he produces a bag of warm, dry, clean clothes. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of alcohol people spill on me at weddings,” he explains with a grin.

They change quickly, which is a very awkward affair when you’re in a tiny car with a man you’re kind of attracted to but aren’t in a relationship with. Chan very resolutely does not peek, but he accidentally catches a flash of brown nipple and smooth skin and very nearly wants to throw himself out of the car.

Once they’re dressed in Joshua’s dry but questionable clothes (Chan’s hoodie has a cartoon bee on it with the caption ‘Bee mine?’ and Chan absolutely hates it), Joshua lets Chan scroll through his phone to find some music to put on while he tries to find a deck of cards in his magical backseat.

“Why is there so much anime music on here?” Chan laughs, scrolling past literally every single Naruto opening theme. He taps on one, just to see if it’s the Korean version, or if Joshua’s Naruto memories are tied to the American dub. To his surprise, it turns out to be the original Japanese, and, even more surprising, Joshua exclaims, “Oh my god, I love this one!” and literally drops everything to headbang and sing along.

Chan can’t help but throw his head back and laugh. “You’re such a nerd!” he yells over Joshua’s furious but perfect belting of the Japanese lyrics.

“Naruto was a formative part of my childhood,” Joshua shouts back, and immediately starts air-guitaring in Chan’s face. Chan laughs and shoves him away lightly, laughing even harder when Joshua’s headbanging leads to him slamming his head into the headrest. Chan lets the song play to its end– if Joshua was still going at full steam after nearly giving himself a concussion, then who was Chan to stop his fun?– but immediately presses pause before the next opening on the list can start to play.

“You are absolutely ridiculous,” Chan tells him, still laughing.

“Nothing wrong with being in touch with your inner child,” Joshua tells him, grinning, finally flopping over in his seat. “And anyway, Naruto was an _iconic_ part of history, okay, let me tell you–” He launches into some extremely weeby speech, which Chan actually attempts to listen to. He’s immediately distracted when Joshua flicks his hair out of his eyes carelessly, because it suddenly strikes Chan that this Joshua, right here and now, is miles away from the cat-eyed stranger he’d met at that wedding, all those months ago. That man had charmed Chan with his smooth lines and sharp wit. This– this was Joshua, who’s hopelessly endearing even when he’s flailing around in a tiny car in some approximation of dancing, who nearly took Chan’s eye out with his elbow earlier, and made Chan wear a stupid punny hoodie. Who, right now, is excitedly yammering on about jutsus and Naruto running and a whole lot of things Chan absolutely does not care about, but all Chan feels is warm and fond and _happy_.

It’s not like Chan didn’t pretty much know it before, but somehow, right here, in this tiny, broken-down car, Chan realises: he _likes_ Joshua. He _really_ likes Joshua, he must, because he’s sitting here listening to this man talk about _Naruto_ and he’s not mad about it at all.

Something must show on his face, because Joshua abruptly cuts himself off mid-tirade. “What?” he asks, eyeing Chan oddly. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Chan says in a murmur, feeling almost dazed. “Keep going.”

Joshua’s eyes soften a little with an emotion Chan can’t name. “It’s not nothing,” he says back, voice just as low, and suddenly there’s a tension in the air, thick and muggy. “Tell me.”

Chan can’t stop looking at him, at his rain-damp hair clumping messily against his forehead, at the smudge of mud under his left eye where he’d been hit in the face with a leaf earlier. At this man who snarks at Chan constantly but never pushes too far, who drove Chan an hour out of the city to help him unwind, who’s done so much for Chan but refuses to accept anything in return. He looks, and he looks, and Joshua– looks _back_.

Chan doesn’t know which of them move first, but the next thing he knows, his eyes are sliding shut and there’s warm wet pressure on his mouth. There’s a hand cradling his jaw, so gentle, so careful; he feels his own fingers tangled in wet hair. It’s a little hesitant, and a lot yearning, and it’s good, it’s so good, but–

Chan pulls away with a gasp. “No,” he croaks, horrified. “I– I’m sorry, I can’t– oh god, I’m sorry–”

He wrenches the door open and scrambles away even though it’s still drizzling. He can’t – can’t be in that car any longer, or he’ll just end up kissing Joshua again.

He hears the other door open from behind him. “Wait!” Joshua is calling, running after him. “Chan, wait–”

“Don’t!” Chan shouts wildly. He turns around to face Joshua, and immediately regrets it. The look on Joshua’s face is terrified, and miserable, and ashamed, and fuck, Chan was the one to put it there.

“I’m sorry,” Joshua whispers, voice hollow. “I’m so sorry, I thought… It won’t happen again, I promise, just– please get back in the car, I don’t want you to get sick.”

Chan shakes his head miserably. Of course Joshua would be worried about Chan’s health right now, even after he’s just kissed him and then shoved him off like Chan hadn’t– hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t savoured the feeling. Like Chan isn’t already wavering just remembering.

“Please,” Joshua is still saying. “I’ll even stay out here, okay, I’m so sorry, it won’t ever happen again–”

“That’s not it,” Chan blurts out in a sob, and to his horror he finds himself crying, big fat tears that won’t stop falling no matter what he does.

That only seems to alarm Joshua, makes him babble a fresh wave of apologies, but Chan shakes his head furiously. “No, just listen,” he hiccups desperately. “You don’t– you don’t understand, it’s not you, it’s not your fault. I’m– I can’t– I’m a mess, don’t you get it?!”

“I don’t understand,” Joshua says helplessly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not fair to you,” Chan wails, grief and anguish twisting in his chest. “Don’t you see? We can’t be together, not like that, not while I’m– while I’m still–” He trails off, clutching his chest. It hurts. It hurts that he can see the way he’s hurting Joshua, but he can’t stop no matter how much he wants to.

“Still what?” Joshua persists. “Still what, Chan, I still don’t understand, tell me, still _what_ –”

“While I’m still in love with Soonyoung!” Chan bursts out.

There’s a clatter to Chan’s right. He whips around to see Junhui, one hand to his mouth with horror, a flashlight rolling on the ground next to him.

“You’re in love with him?” Junhui whispers shakily, just a tiny sound, but it sounds like thunder in Chan’s ears.

“No, no, Junnie-hyung, that’s not it,” Chan is trying to say, desperately trying to cover it up somehow, but it slips from his grasp like water through his fingers. It’s too late. He’s already hurt two of the people he cares about the most. He should never have let it get this far, should never have let his secret slip.

“You’re in love with him,” Junhui repeats, looking like he’s been struck. “How? How long? Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Fuck. “It’s not– he didn’t cheat on you, hyung, I swear, he doesn’t know anything about this,” Chan says desperately, because he will not break them up because of his stupid feelings. “It’s nothing, it’s not a big deal–”

“How long, Chan?”

Chan winces. “Three years,” he admits softly, not meeting Junhui’s eyes. “But I – once you guys started dating, I– I told myself to get over it–”

Junhui makes a wounded noise, and Chan falls silent, heart aching. “I’m sorry,” Chan whispers, because he is.

“No,” chokes Junhui, and oh god, he’s crying now, scrubbing the tears off his cheeks with the heels of his palms. “No, Channie, I–” He cuts himself off with a loud, hiccupping sob.

This isn’t what Chan wanted. He’s starting towards Junhui before he realises it, reaching out to– to comfort him, somehow– but Junhui jerks away from him, folds in on himself like he can’t bear for Chan to touch him.

Chan’s heart breaks. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he whispers again, voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

That just makes Junhui sob harder, makes him fall to his knees on the muddy ground. He sobs and shakes and Chan can’t do anything but stand there and watch him, guilt weighing heavy on his body.

This is all Chan’s fault, and he doesn’t know how to make it better.


	3. Chapter 3

Chan spends the next week shut up in his apartment. He doesn’t answer the phone, barely reads texts. He only answers the door when he runs out of food and has to order delivery to stay alive. This is all his fault.

He gleans the situation, roughly, from the texts he does not reply. Junhui has flown back to China and into Minghao’s arms. Minghao is convinced it’s Soonyoung’s fault and is this close to flying over just to murder Soonyoung. Soonyoung is desperately trying to find out why Junhui left via increasingly aggressive texts. Even Wonwoo’s sent him a text, just one, but brimming with emotion: _I was sceptical at first, but I realised I’ve never seen Soonyoung happier than when he’s with Junhui. And I’ve never seen him more devastated than he is now that Junhui’s gone. Please: what happened?_

Joshua hasn’t said anything to Chan, but he hasn’t said anything beyond ‘it’s not my secret to tell’ to Soonyoung and Wonwoo either.

Chan curls up into a ball on his bed and does not cry. He’s got no more tears left, wrung dry from the first few days of the aftermath. This is all his fault. If only he hadn’t ever caught feelings for Soonyoung in the first place. Or if he’d just– been honest with everyone about it. Maybe if he’d confessed all those years ago, when he first started to develop a crush, maybe if he’d been rejected then this would never have happened. Maybe he’d be dating Joshua right now, laughing and warm and in love with someone who loved him back.

But that’s not Chan’s life. Of course it isn’t. Chan doesn’t think he’s been happy, truly happy, in– in years.

Or, no. He thinks, maybe, he might have been, a week ago, trapped in a tiny car and soaked in rain and wearing a stupid bee hoodie while Naruto played in the background. Or two weeks ago, bickering about who’d pay for coffee and a croissant. Or three weeks ago, lying on a cold forest floor, staring up into the Milky Way.

But all of that slipped through his fingers, all because he couldn’t get over a stupid fucking _crush_.

He just– wishes things could be like before, wishes he could just wake up in a world where that day never happened, where they’re still planning the wedding, where Chan and Joshua are still hovering in the friends-but-maybe-more zone, where Soonyoung and Junhui are still smiling and disgusting and so, so happy–

It hits Chan suddenly, like a ton of bricks: he just wished Soonyoung and Junhui were _back_ _together_ _again_. Not that they’d never met, or that they were just friends, or that the whole wedding business never happened. Even though it still twinges at Chan’s heart, surely, surely that must mean something. Even if that something isn’t that Chan has truly gotten over Soonyoung quite yet, maybe– maybe it means that he’s ready to _start_.

 _If you want something, then you should reach out and take it_ , Joshua had once said to him, and oh, how the memory makes him ache. But he was _right_. And– maybe he can’t change what happened between him and Joshua, can’t magic away three years’ worth of feelings in a day, but there is one thing he can do.

This was all Chan’s fault, yes, but all that means is that he has to be the one to _fix_ it.

\---

He goes to Soonyoung first, because he deserves to know.

“Hyung,” Chan says, steel in his voice and eyes meeting Soonyoung’s steadily. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“What?” Soonyoung is– a wreck. He’s obviously been crying, distraught by Junhui’s sudden disappearance, and the way he hugged Chan when he showed up at Soonyoung’s door was more than enough to say how worried he’d been about Chan. He needs to know.

Chan’s voice doesn’t waver when he says, “I’ve been in love with you for the past three years.”

Soonyoung’s gasp is sharp, shocked. His mouth falls open, and he stares at Chan like he can’t quite understand what he’s saying. “You mean, like, family love?” Soonyoung asks desperately.

“No, hyung, like I wanted to date you and watching you with your girlfriends and boyfriends made me feel like I’d been stabbed in the chest.”

Soonyoung makes a wounded noise. Chan winces; maybe that had been a little harsh.

“Sorry for being so blunt,” Chan says, trying for soothing. “It’s just– I need you to understand. I never said anything because you were always dating someone, and the more time passed, the more afraid I was that confessing would just make things awkward. So– I never told anyone. Not a single soul. And then, well, Junhui happened–”

“You were in love with me even then?” Soonyoung croaks, horrified. “And we– we kept inviting you out with us because we didn’t want you to feel left out– and oh god, the wedding, we made you get so involved with the wedding, oh my _god_ –”

“You didn’t know,” Chan reminds him gently.

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says, devastated. “God, Channie– I’m so _sorry_ , I never even thought–”

“I know,” Chan says, calm even though some part of him is hurt at the confirmation that Soonyoung had never thought of him in that way. “It’s not your fault.” And then, because he might as well rip the band-aid off all at once, “Junhui– that’s not your fault either. He overheard me telling someone else, and he– he freaked out.”

“What?” Soonyoung breathes. “But– why would that make him leave?”

“That, I don’t know,” Chan sighs. “I don’t know if he thought I’d betrayed his friendship by being in love with his fiancé, or if he thought you’d cheated on him with me–”

“I would never!” Soonyoung bursts out furiously, then backpedals, “Or, uh, I mean, that’s not anything against you, Channie, I’m sure any man would be lucky to cheat with you– no, that’s not right–”

“I get it, hyung, thanks,” Chan interrupts dryly. “The point is, I haven’t spoken to him yet. I just– wanted you to know, first. I should’ve told you three years ago.”

Soonyoung gives him an unhappy look. “I really am sorry, Channie,” he says, genuinely upset. “I’m sorry I can’t return your feelings.”

Chan smiles. It doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, to hear those words. Rather, he feels like– like a weight has been lifted off his chest, like he can suddenly breathe properly again even though he hadn’t realised there’d been a problem until now. It’s like a wound that’s finally scabbed over, not quite healed yet but well on its way.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Chan assures him. “Now let’s get you your fiancé back.”

\---

It takes downloading WeChat and several, very long messages to Minghao, but Chan manages to set up a call with Junhui.

“Hi hyung,” Chan greets, and Junhui immediately bursts into tears.

“Channie,” he sobs into his sweater paws. “No, Minghao, please, I can’t– I can’t face him right now–”

“Hyung,” Chan repeats sternly. “I don’t know why you left or what you think happened between us, but I promise you, Soonyoung had no clue about how I felt, nor did anyone else. There was nothing between us, he didn’t cheat on you–”

“What?” Junhui yelps. “No, what? No, no, he would never– _you_ would never, of course you wouldn’t, I never thought that for a second!”

Chan frowns, confused. “Then why? Why leave like that if you didn’t think I’d– betrayed you, somehow?”

“Oh, Channie,” Junhui wails, distraught. “It wasn’t your fault, it was never your fault! I– I just couldn’t bear to think– I was supposed to be your friend, and you were being so kind as to– to let me stay with you when I had nobody else in Korea–” He heaves a big, hiccupping sob. “And then I just– I just– swooped in and stole Soonyoung from you!”

Oh no. Is that what made Junhui fly all the way back to China? Has he been beating himself up about it this whole time?

“Hyung,” he tries, going for soothing, “you hardly _stole_ him, he was never going to feel that way about me in the first place–”

“You don’t know that!” Junhui cries. “And even if that’s true, how could I have– have gushed about him, and how much I love him, and how I was sure he was the _one_ when you– when you were–” He dissolves into fresh tears.

“You didn’t know,” Chan says, almost pleading now. “How could you have known?”

Junhui shakes his head furiously. “I can’t, I can’t,” he’s sobbing. “I can’t keep doing that to you, I couldn’t live with myself. I can’t go through with the wedding, I can’t, please, tell– tell Soonyoung I love him, but–”

“Wen Junhui, I have put too much effort into this wedding for you to cancel it over something as stupid as this,” Chan tells him firmly. “I want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy. And I don’t think I’ve seen either of you as happy as when you’re together.” He shoots Junhui the cockiest grin he can muster. “And anyway, I’m completely over him now, so everything’s fine.”

“Are you, really?” Junhui whispers sadly.

Chan’s grin cracks, but only just a little. “No,” he says truthfully. “But I’m getting there.”

This time, Junhui musters up a tiny, watery smile back, and Chan thinks: _everything will be okay._

\---

Soonyoung and Junhui have a heart-to-heart over video call soon after. Chan doesn’t know what exactly was said, but Junhui books a flight back to Korea, and Soonyoung won’t stop smiling, so Chan assumes it went well. They don’t call the wedding off, but they all agree that a break from wedding planning is well-deserved. Chan doesn’t argue, because it only reminds him of the one last thing he wants, and he isn’t sure he can have it.

And then, because Chan’s done with sitting around and letting things happen to him, he decides, fuck it.

\---

“Hi,” says Chan, breathless, the moment the door swings open.

“Chan?” Joshua says, like he can’t believe his eyes. He’s got a serious bedhead going on, and his face is pillow-creased. He’s wearing a holey, toothpaste-stained shirt with some form of anime characters printed on the front, and what looks like a ratty pair of basketball shorts. Chan has never been more endeared in his life. “What– what are you doing here?”

Chan grins, ignoring the panicked _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart, and hands him a shopping bag. “I still owe you a pair of shoes, remember?”

Joshua’s mouth falls open. “You did _not_ ,” he says, appalled.

“Oh, yes I did,” Chan tells him gleefully. “I went to Christian Louboutin and asked for the most expensive men’s dress shoe they had in store.”

“No, absolutely _not_.”

“And then I realised it was far too expensive and bought one at half the price,” Chan finishes, almost giggling now. “Which was still probably ten times more than the pair I ruined.”

“Why have you done this, I told you you don’t owe me anything!” Joshua bemoans.

Chan beams. He can’t help it– his heart feels so warm and so full, and he’s nervous, but he’s mostly excited, and he knows that– even if things don’t work out, he’ll be okay. “I auditioned for a dance show today,” he says, the words nearly bubbling out of him. “I didn’t get in.”

“Oh,” says Joshua, clearly unsure of how to react. “Um, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’ve got twenty more lined up,” Chan says. “Auditions, I mean. Over the next couple of months. And– I told that wedding hall I’m not dancing for them unless they double my pay.”

“Well, that’s– good, I guess?”

“It is, it’s very good. And, you know what else, Soonyoung and Junhui are back together and the wedding is still on–”

“Alright!” Joshua interrupts, bewildered. He sighs, scratching his head. “Look, this is all really great, I’m glad for you, but– I don’t get why you’re telling me all this.”

“Because I owe all that stuff to you,” Chan says honestly. “If it weren’t for you, none of that would have happened. I’d– I’d still be doing the exact same thing I’d been doing for three years, and I wouldn’t be _un_ happy, but I wouldn’t be happy, either. And now– I’m getting there, and that’s all thanks to _you_.”

Joshua stares at him for a long moment, then closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “So you came here… to thank me?”

“No,” says Chan. “Well, yes, I guess, but that’s not all. You said it yourself, ‘if you want something, you should reach out and take it’. The shoes I just gave you are to say thank you, and sorry, and to clear a debt. But… the reason I’m here isn’t because I owe you anything, but because I _want_ you.

“I guess what I’m saying is…” Chan takes a deep breath, then shoots Joshua a nervous smile. “Hi, my name is Lee Chan. I’m 21 years old and I dance. I used to be in love with my boss at the dance studio I work at, but one day I met a cat-eyed stranger at a wedding. I didn’t fall for him, handsome and smooth and charming as he was; but he turned out to be a nerd, and a sarcastic bastard, and the kind of idiot who rocks out so hard to Naruto, he nearly cracked his head open on the headrest of his own car. That– that was the guy I fell for.

“But– I knew I was still fucked up over my boss. And my guy, he– he was too kind, I’d owed him too much to let him get dragged into my bullshit. So– I pushed him away. And I’ve regretted it every moment since.”

Joshua is looking at him so intently, his eyes so soft and bright and– swirling with some emotion Chan can’t quite name yet. “Chan,” he says quietly, but Chan shakes his head. He has to finish. If he doesn’t say this now, he never will.

“So!” Chan claps his hands together, smile bright. “Here I am, over my issues with my boss. Not quite over my guy, but I have a feeling you might be forgiving about that. And– here you are. Someone I don’t owe anything. Someone I like because– well, why does anyone ever like anyone else? And I– I want to be with you. So, here I am, saying…”

Chan unbuttons his coat to reveal the yellow bee hoodie he’s wearing underneath. “Bee mine?” he finishes, wearing a hopeful grin.

Joshua throws his head back with laughter the moment he sees the stupid hoodie. “I can’t believe– you hated that hoodie!”

“I did,” Chan agrees. “I do! But I like you, and you like stupid puns, so.”

“I do like stupid puns,” Joshua hums, coming closer. “And I like you.”

“Good,” Chan breathes, and kisses Joshua.

\---

**end.**

\---

**Author's Note:**

> PHEW it's finished!! over 2/3 of this was written in the last two days before the deadline for submission, so as you might expect, no proofreading we die like men
> 
> ao3 user dollyeo asked for romcoms and weddings and 27 dresses was on the list of prompts, so i ... sorta ran away with it, ahha. hope you like it!


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